Hi! My name is Kate and welcome to my multi-fandom blog! Some small facts about me:
She/Her - 24 - Based in the Southern US - INFJ - 6w5
I write regularly for my muse (Levi <3). Requests are always accepted for my primary fandoms, and I LOVE to discuss headcanons for them. Featured fandoms include:
Below the cut is my current master list sorted by fandom. Last updated: 08/07/2026
Attack on Titan
Contentment - Levi Ackerman x Reader - Canon Verse - ON GOING PROJECT - P1, P2, P3, P4
Levi is a man of simple pleasures, of finding peace and ease in the smallest things. After all, hasn't most of his life been spent with very little or nothing at all? Yet, somehow, nothing seems to be filling that need recently. None of the usual tricks are working. It's only when a thoughtful, unabashed new recruit joins his squad that he manages to find some semblance of solace and understanding of this ever-fleeting feeling.
Would you? - Levi Ackerman x Reader - Modern AU - LINK
You were a bit of a sad sack. A pitiful case really. Partying on Halloween night to get over a cheating ex who you didn't really care all that much about, and the only man to take you home is the guy you've always wanted.
Fiancé!Levi Ackerman Headcanons - P1, P2
General headcanons surrounding our favorite captain leading up to his wedding. Vendors, color scheme, wedding dress shopping, the works.
The Dress - Fiancé!Levi Ackerman x Reader - LINK
Levi takes on more than he can handle when wedding dress shopping with his beloved fiancée.
!!NSFW!! Sensation - Levi Ackerman x Reader - LINK
After pestering him nearly all day, your intimidating Captain finally decides to give in to your demands.
!!NSFW!! Impulse - Levi Ackerman x Reader - P1, P2
After thoughtlessly causing issues within your squad, your strict captain demands retribution in the form of cleaning duties. Somehow, those same impulsive decisions lead you to fulfilling your punishment in unconventional ways.
Stardew Valley
General Headcanon Series - Organized by character - ON GOING PROJECT
Sebastian x Farmer - LINK
Sam x Farmer - LINK
Haley x Farmer - LINK
Abigail x Farmer - LINK
Elliot x Farmer - LINK
Leah x Farmer - LINK
Shane x Farmer - LINK
Emily x Farmer - LINK
Alex x Farmer - LINK
Maru x Farmer - LINK
Rainy Days - Sebastian x Gender Neutral!Farmer - Canon Verse - ON GOING PROJECT - P1, P2
*Each chapter can be read as a standalone.*
You recently moved to a new town full of lively, overly friendly neighbors. It’s nice, for sure, but what captures your interest more is the aloof man with dark hair who seems to think far more than he says.
Requests
How would the Stardew villagers react to finding out there are monsters lurking below in the mines, the deep forest, and sewer? - LINK
Summary: A rainy day in Marley, a steaming cup of tea, and self-reflection thrust onto a man long tired, weary, and longing.
Notes: As a precursor to this – I drew inspiration from the song Vincent by Don McLean to write this. You don’t have to listen to it to enjoy, but I highly recommend it as it ties in nicely.
AO3: @junimodreams
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: Angst 😊, post rumbling canon compliant, major character death discussion, grief/mourning
Rain taps the glass rhythmically in Levi’s small upstairs apartment. Gray slate skies peek through the panes of glass; writhing waves crash the shoreline in the distance, barely glimpsed over the line of new buildings in Marley. It’s late in the way that rainy days get late – far too early with the darkness creeping in before one realizes it.
The curtains shift marginally when he sits down in the chair near the window. Neat, high-backed, leather that groans when he makes contact with it. Well-loved and worn in from countless nights of use. The nights are longer, even now.
The side table is equally loved. Steaming tea, fragrant, disperses in the air, and the worn blue book Armin mailed him sits beside it. It’s not his typical read. Not really. Something deep, poetic, and a little more saccharine than he cares to indulge in, but the nights are long, and Armin mailed it to him with a note in the front that made him feel a little less old and world-weary.
His joints ache as he adjusts, nose wrinkling in dismay. He’s felt increasingly like an old man these days. Old scars fading from jagged pink to grayed and translucent-looking, finding silver patches in his hair he knows weren’t there years ago, and all the aches that felt like collateral back then have started to feel life-altering now. Part of him has wondered if an upstairs apartment was a good idea. His knee’s not done for, but it won’t last forever, either.
A sip of tea that rolls on his tongue, new and somehow still familiar, and then he picks up the book. He’s read bits and pieces in the evenings for the last several weeks. Today felt like the right day to dig in again. The rain makes his bones ache, and paying customers track in clumpy, sandy mud to the tea shop below on rainy days. Closing early and sitting with a book and a new blend of tea to test made sense.
The book cracks open easily enough, pages whispering alongside the pelt of rain on the glass. He picks up where he left off. A lot of it feels like optimistic garbage. It makes him wonder if Armin’s concerned about him. He doesn’t see him often these days. None of them, really. Letters, occasionally. The thought is pushed aside just as quickly as it comes. It’s odd to think about Armin being worried. The man reminds him more of Erwin every year, and it makes him uncomfortable in that same way pressing a bruise does. An old injury that still hurts if you brush it too hard.
His eyes scan the page methodically, rain on glass like a metronome for a mind long used to lightning speed and fire. Time slips through the small sitting room like sand through his fingers, and the light dims further, cloudy gray afternoon dipping into evening.
“Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.” [Sidney Harris]
Levi blinks at the line. He adjusts in the chair, back hitting leather, before he reads it again. Something weighty settles into his chest like a stone dropped in water. The ripple lasts longer than he’d like.
"If you begin to regret, you'll dull your future decisions and let others make your choices for you. All that's left for you then is to die."
He exhales shakily in the quiet room. The words ring fresh in his ears as if they weren’t said to him years ago. He can still hear the cadence of Erwin’s voice as he said them. Rich timbre, deep, and then softened like flowing honey behind a closed office door.
Rain knocks against the glass steadily, sliding down to collect on the bottom lip. His eyes find the slow glide, tracing it, even if he doesn’t really take it in. His head’s elsewhere.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Elegant hands. He’d called them politician hands. Hands that mapped his skin in a way that left warmth where there should have been cold and hands that had held his face in a way no one else had ever been allowed to.
His eyes close, brows furrowing, as if to dispel the thoughts. They come in waves just like the rain pelting the spotless windowpanes.
Curious eyes peering up at him, deep ocean blue, and warm in a way that only something new or particularly intellectual could invoke. Hands pressed to a map that’s marked to hell and back in an office that’s lit by warm lamps at dusk. Mahogany desk, a rich dark blue carpet, a bookcase full of things that Levi himself had never quite thought interesting. He just liked the way Erwin’s eyes had shifted, sparked, and somehow warmed when he talked about the contents.
He swallows thickly, sliding the book closed. He can still smell the pages. Vision blurring on the cover. Dark blue, too. Ache settles. Ache worse than any joint that creaks when he stands or sits or lifts something far too heavy for an aging man. Ache that fills his ribs and chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe.
That day amongst the steam, he’d made promises he kept. He’d made a lot of promises to the man, both in the field and in private, behind closed doors that remain locked and always will. Somehow that hurts worse. He swallows thickly again, hands fisting slowly, eyes somehow seeing the cover of the book and not. Seeing the color dark blue and thinking of his eyes again. Seeing dark blue and thinking of the carpet in Erwin’s office and wondering where it went in the shuffle or if it’s still sitting in that same room on another island that he doesn’t even live on anymore. Where Erwin still is.
The book blurs and the rain pounds harder against the glass, pattering repeatedly.
He’d thought about that day on the roof a million times over the years. More than he’d like to, even in sleep where he didn’t have a choice. He doesn’t regret saving Armin. Never could. Never will. Erwin taught him that, but he’d never thought of it that way.
The first thought following is that he wishes he’d been kinder. He wishes the wall that exists inside of him had proper footholds and handholds to have made Erwin’s life easier. He wishes he had kissed him more, kissed him properly, held his face in the adoring manner that Erwin had held his. Scarred hands on perfectly high cheekbones, stubble that had grown quickly for the man scraping against his palms.
The book blurs harder, his eyes burning. He blinks rapidly in the dying light cast into the room. Just blue now. Like his eyes and like the ocean that separates him now. Like the carpet that had been in his office and like the military-grade sheets that had been on his bed in the mornings when the light crept under the curtain, and Erwin had urged him to come back to bed. He’d felt vulnerable then. Cold under the man’s sunny warmth, like some kind of nocturnal animal that had been dragged into the daytime. Unfamiliar, unusual, and uncomfortable even if the sun felt good on his skin and in his bones.
Why couldn’t he do it? He spent his youth and more fighting to claw his way into the light, and yet somehow in the direct light all he ever looked for was shade. Shade from the overwhelming adoration whispered in corridors long abandoned. Shade from the burning heat in eyes and a heart that felt too good for him. He still wonders what Erwin ever saw in him.
He thought it was carnal appeal. A man so powerful with words wanted to see how well they worked on someone like him. Someone that built his own wall just to keep the ugly thoughts at bay, to not cry into his bunk at night, and to keep moving forward even if the world had dug its fingers in hard enough to draw blood. It hadn’t been. It had scared him beyond repair, but the ache had been different then.
The ache now is hollow and gaping in his chest so wide that the rain pattering against the glass and the black clouds through the windowpane don’t register. The ache back then felt like a teacup full enough for proper surface tension. Enough to spill and make a mess if not contained carefully.
It had been a stolen brush of hands when exchanging documents, lips pressed to his temple when he should have been shaking from fear, and quiet words that slithered their way into his heart in a way the world’s claws could never dig for that had told Levi otherwise.
He wishes he’d told him he loved him. He wishes he’d told him thank you. He wishes he’d held him tighter, held him longer, and crawled back into that body-warmed bed, bare legs brushing his, and hands smoothing down his scarred back as the sun crept higher in the sky.
But he hadn’t.
Thunder cracks overhead, shaking the little apartment. The windowpanes rattle. Levi startles in the only way he truly can - his eyes flick up to the glass again. Gray meeting a black sky with clouds that speak of nothing good. The burning behind his lids has ceased. The rain’s pelting harder, trickling down the glass at a rapid pace now.
The book’s still in his hands, his tea is still steaming on the side table, and his heart is still utterly dedicated to a man long buried.
Outro: So, this is new for me. I usually don’t write ship stuff. Always x readers. In my entire ten years of writing for various fandoms this is a first, so it’s a little short but I LOVE it. I also love writing angst. This was written while I replayed Vincent about 50 times, plus some minor edits. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get into longer pieces for these two, especially because I’m not hardcore into it, but I do appreciate the gravity of the relationship and thought this would be an interesting way to explore both of their characters more. Hopefully y’all enjoyed <3
Click HERE for my master list!
Thank you to everyone who's joined us on this journey, shared feedback, showed us your farms, created fan art, and loved Mistria as much as we do. 1.0 is just the beginning. 🌱
Download on Steam: bit.ly/Mistria
Type A but not type anxious. Maru is surprisingly relaxed when it comes to organization, feelings, and conflict.
This means she’s a wonderful partner when it comes to stability - very few fights, quick to compromise, and quick to let you know how she feels.
By contrast, this also now means there’s at least one drawer in the farmhouse labeled Maru’s “things”. They’re in a drawer = organized. What’s in the drawer? A few loose screws, a granola bar, some half-concocted project that smells like it’s burning, and a book that has pages ripped out? Yeah. She has a valid (mostly) explanation.
She’s a hard worker to a fault, but she takes a lot of joy in it. She continues her work at Harvey’s post-marriage and remains consistent with it. Oftentimes, she comes home and rambles about her day before making something interesting for dinner.
GOOD cook! Lots of interesting and new flavors, but they all work.
The hard-working trait is definitely from both parents. It shows up on the farm too. The sooner you let her look at schematics, the sooner she sets to optimizing. One complaint about a finicky process? Maru comes to you the next day with a blueprint and a “let me help you, honey” as if she knows better (because she does).
Guilty pleasure, reality TV rainy days are her private pressure release. She curls up on the couch and tries to convince you to join her. It’s not an every rainy day thing, because those days are also excellent for doing house projects, but when the mood strikes, she tries.
She’s definitely not a Bad Girls Club type. Maybe Keeping up with the Kardashians? Potentially Jersey Shore. She laughs a lot. Very much these people are crazy, but so interesting vibes.
Surprise star-gazing dates. She finds a comfortable spot in the woods on a clear night, packs snacks, a blanket, and if she’s feeling extra, maybe a handheld telescope. Lots of lying beside each other, hands intertwined, while she narrates constellations softly.
Not overtly affectionate physically in private or PDA wise. Maru tends to be understated here - hand holding, gentle brushes against you as she walks by. A lot of heavier petting happens in bed.
She sleeps in the fetal position half the time, curled up and pressed either to your back or front, one hand gripping your sleep shirt. Gives THE BEST head scratches. She’s methodical about it.
Very acts of service coded. Anything she can invent to make your life easier or a minuscule task she can take on to make your day run smoother is her prerogative.
Actually adores receiving words of affirmation, especially about her work (specifically the wilder notions). She’s also your number one hype woman in return.
She and Sebastian grow closer post-marriage. Not being in the same house really helps, and Sebastian respects her independence, even if she’s still in ‘boring old Pelican Town’.
They talk tech a lot. Unless you’re techy too, there are a lot of dinners with Sebastian over where some coding talk goes right over your head. The bonding is sweet though.
If kids are a factor in marriage, she is super mom. Literally. Lunches? Prepped. Fun sensory activities? Researched and planned for optimal child brain development. Cuddly and patient? To a fault.
Outro: Hello all! I hope that this isn’t too OOC for Maru. This has always been the sort of read I’ve had on her character. Like very type A (Demetrius is her dad so… yeah), but she’s not giving tight wad either. She seems very adaptable and laid back in a way that her dad isn’t. I don’t usually marry her in my playthroughs, but writing for her and deep diving into her characterization made me want to lol. Harvey is up next in this series! Hope you all enjoyed <3
AO3: @junimodreams
Click HERE for my master list!
Summary: Your impulsive decisions know no bounds. After your Captain’s punishment weeks ago you’ve been left aching for your own sort of absolution. Lucky for you, one late night in his office ensures you find it.
Part one is linked HERE!
AO3: @junimodreams
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: Fem reader, p^rn with plot, P in V, rough sex, power dynamics, humiliation, f masturbation mention, dirty talk, creampie, tension, degradation, hair pulling, minimal aftercare
Weeks have rolled by steadily, not unlike the throbbing between your legs that seems to ramp up at night.
“Yeah, you fucking like this shit, don’t you?”
The phrase has rattled around in your skull nightly as your hands have edged lower still, pressing against the raw heat between your thighs that you can feel even through the rough cotton issued sleep pants. The truth of the matter is you liked it, unfortunately, and now it’s taken on a mind of its own in the following weeks.
Captain Levi had given you no grace that day in his office after ramming his cock down your throat, filling it, and then sending you away with your panties soaked through and an ache in your pussy that felt hollow. The only thing that had truly given him away in the following weeks post-incident was that he avoided you. Deliberately.
A passing in the hallway at headquarters? He’d go the other way or move to the other side of the hall. A debrief with the squad? Those hard-set eyes of his avoided you as if his life depended on it. It was like you’d become a fixture on his squad. Not a person. Not another variable to be accounted for. Something inconvenient.
The real, truly, confusing factor was his punishment protocols, or lack thereof. Not because you hadn’t earned them. You had earned plenty. That impulsive brain of yours was still alive and well, and well-fed post blowing your Captain. You’d learned it has a good payoff sometimes, even if it’s not the one you imagined.
Jean throws an insult. You throw a bread roll at his head. The captain looks at you with dead eyes instead of barking an order. You don’t tighten a strap on your gear the way you were trained to, half remembering in a rush. He fixes it abruptly mid-drill and glares at you instead of cutting you down verbally on the spot. While it should, in theory, cool the waters… it hasn’t. For some reason, you find that far more appealing than if he had yelled or moved you to a new squad altogether.
That’s what’s brought you here. To his office, late. You have a valid excuse this time, just like the last. The Commander sent over paperwork for his review, and that needs the captain’s signature. It’s the first chance you’ve had to be alone with him since the incident, and while you’re scared out of your ever-loving mind in that way that sets your nerves tingling, you pop the top two buttons on your uniform anyway.
Impulsive. Maybe it’s not thought through, but it makes you warm between your legs, nonetheless. You do knock this time. Two sharp raps on the thick wood of the door that echo in the empty corridor of headquarters.
“Enter.”
Comes sharp and immediate. His voice sounds strained even through the door. You enter the office, already primed for the thought of offering something akin to stress relief.
He’s there, like always, Captain Levi with his hard-set jaw, brows furrowed in concentration. The lamplight casts shadows across his face, painting it sharp and wiry in the dimness. The curtains of his sparse office are drawn, and his jacket is tossed over the back of the chair in a way that is anything but neat, surprisingly.
He doesn’t look up when you enter.
“I have some papers for you, sir, from the Commander,” you state briskly, stepping into the office further.
You shut the door behind you. Purposefully, with a quiet click. It feels like a trigger point. Maybe behind a closed door you can finally get your much-desired absolution. There’s a micro pause in his movement. The quill halts for the barest second before he resumes. He doesn’t even glance up.
“Set them down in the corner file,” he directs, clipped.
The sinking feeling starts, and you quickly tamp it down. Fear? Excitement? You’re unsure. It coils tight in your belly. He sounds stressed. He sounds like himself, which is nearly always stressed in some way. You sidle up to the desk and put the papers in his intake tray without deliberate rush, purposefully neat. You know you won’t hear the end of it if you toss them down carelessly.
His writing pauses again. That’s when he finally glances up. His eyes look darker in this lighting. The lamp catches the darker hues of blue, like water with silver glimpses of moonlight pooling in them. His hair is ruffled, just enough to tell you he’s overworked, and the darkness under his eyes is the final proof you need.
“Is there something you need, or are you going to dally in my office all night?”
It lands like a brick in the room. A cold, heavy thing that pushes the air from your lungs. Once again, like always, your mouth runs further ahead than your mind does.
“I was just wondering if you needed help with anything, sir?”
His expression tightens. Your stomach drops, tumbles, and somehow holds a thread of humiliating excitement still.
“Help?” he asks, voice flat and steely.
You lick your lips nervously, and his eyes catch on the movement before darting back to bore directly into your eyes, as if peeling your statement and soul apart layer by layer. Hopefully what he finds isn’t too disgusting.
“Help,” you repeat solidly, exhaling slightly.
You don’t break eye contact. He doesn’t either, but he does lean back in his chair, and the quill goes down onto the desk. His hands fold neatly together across his stomach, like he’s deciding your fate. Or worse. You’re unsure of what could be worse if he denies you outright.
The silence in the room is thick, suffocating. The captain tilts his head slightly, evaluating, before clucking his tongue.
“If you’re that shameless, then get over here,” he finally relents flatly.
Your eyes widen, and your pulse jumps in your throat. You don’t waste time, stepping around the side of the desk with deliberate care. He slides the chair away from the desk, turning it so he’s facing you properly when you round the corner. As you round the desk, you can already see the hard-on in his pants, bulging against his thigh through thick uniform-grade material.
He spreads his legs slowly, thighs parted. He makes no move to stand. The thought lands like a hammer, then. He wants you to blow him, again. It gives you pause right before you finally step into his space.
Levi glances up at you, evaluating.
“What?”
Hesitation rears its ugly head in your chest, but of course you spit it out anyway.
“I want you to fuck me.”
A sharp exhale leaves him, his mouth parting slightly, eyes widening just enough to tell you that you’ve shocked him. It warrants a sick sort of satisfaction in your chest. You may have ruined everything, but at least you caught him by surprise. You’re half waiting for him to berate you, or to tell you to leave. Silence stretches thick and taut in the office.
His eyes narrow, mouth tamping shut again in a thin line. This might be the moment he decides to discharge you altogether. Your palms feel damp.
“Fine. On your stomach,” he says, voice final, thick with something you can’t quite place your finger on. He nods towards the desk.
Your breath leaves you in another sharp exhale, your hands clenching just briefly at your side, but you move. Quickly, efficiently, heat building in your lower regions like breath to a flame. Levi doesn’t waste time. He’s up before you even register it, and that’s when he finally gets his hands on you properly.
Both of his hands land on your waist, and he crowds you against the desk front first, hard on pressed firmly against you. The front of your thighs hit the edge of the desk, your face burns, body sparking with contact.
“You sure about this?” he asks, this time quieter, palming your waist, as if eager but also uncharacteristically unsure.
You give a breathless nod, and that’s all it takes. Thankfully, you have the foresight to shove some of the paperwork and his quill aside when he removes one hand from your waist, only to press it to your back and get you firmly stomach down on the desk. It’s quiet. It’s rapid breathing in the room, and you’re not sure if it’s him, you, or both.
He presses against you again, this time grinding against your ass properly. A stuttered exhale leaves him. Your hands find the front edge of the desk, and you spread your legs without ceremony, allowing him access, swallowing a moan when you feel the clothed heat of him press against your own.
“Should have known you’d come back,” he mutters, half talking to himself, half breathless as he slowly, achingly, grinds himself against you.
You can feel him press right up against your clit through your pants, and your forehead finds the desk with a weak whimper.
“Swallowed me like it was fun. Should have known you’d want this too.”
Humiliation burns in your stomach along with the building wave of pleasure as he grinds slowly against you, one hand gripping your ass firmly, the other still wrapped around your waist to pull you back towards him.
A breathless little noise leaves you, but you don’t deny it. He’s right.
“Huh? That’s what you wanted, right?” he murmurs, this time grinding harder, hand firmer.
Another noise that you can’t quite control leaves you as he brushes against your clit. You press back against him in response, humiliation making your tongue feel thick in your mouth. Your face burns with embarrassment and a shameless desire you’re far past hiding now.
“Yes. Yes, sir,” you breathe, forehead still pressed to the cool wood of the desk. Paper crinkles under you. His own breathing is labored in a way that promises nothing good.
The words barely leave you before you feel his hands shift to the waistband of your pants. He rucks them down seamlessly and without comment. You gasp when the cool air finally hits your pussy, already wet, already pulsing for what you hope is actually coming this time.
He pauses once your pants are down, pulling them just low enough for you to spread yourself properly for him. You freeze, eyes closing. Shame burns up your spine. A lesser woman might find herself crying.
Levi clucks his tongue. Approval? You’re not sure. He runs a finger up your wet slit anyway, collecting what’s there, the sound lewd in the room. You flinch, biting your lip at the high sound that almost comes out.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, flat. That same commanding tone that sets you on fire.
“Absolutely shameless.”
You don’t have much time to assess whether that’s truly criticism or not because the sound of fabric rustling in the room makes your pulse jump, pussy clenching involuntarily. There’s rapid movement behind you. The clink of a belt buckle, the sound of fabric shifting, and then a hiss as he frees himself. You could moan in anticipation. You don’t. You spread your legs just a little wider against the desk in offering, pussy aching and weeping for him.
He rewards you by gripping your ass before he presses forward. The thick, swollen head of him slides through your folds easily. A high-pitched sound leaves you as he brushes up against your clit, slick with precum and desire.
“Yeah, like that, huh?” he murmurs, fingers digging into the globe of your ass.
You nod against the desk, desperate. A please sits on the tip of your tongue. Luckily, you don’t have to use it. He’s already pushing in with a long exhale. Relief, startling and immediate, leaves you in the form of a moan. The stretch, the glide as he slips in, hitting that perfect spot that makes your legs weak nearly immediately. He’s thick, just like you remembered during those late nights in your assigned barracks bed.
“Yeah, that’s what you wanted,” he says again, breathless confirmation, and then he starts moving.
A quick pull back, and then he’s slamming into you. A high-pitched whimper escapes you as he sets a pace, quick, brutal. The hand on your hip is bruising, and the one on your ass spreads you without ceremony so he can watch you take him. Skin on skin reverberates in the room, bodies colliding repeatedly and roughly.
A grunt leaves him as he angles his hips slightly, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl in your boots. Another moan leaves you, your breath coming rapidly. He takes that as his go-ahead, clearly, and starts pummeling it repeatedly, his hands bruising and iron clad.
You press back, pussy clenching around him again, closer, chasing the sensation. The sounds in the room are lewd, a slickness that exposes just how badly you needed it. How many nights you’d spent furiously thinking about his cock down your throat and his hand in your hair.
He shifts again, the hand on your waist riding higher, sliding up your clothed side, the fabric riding up, and then latching onto the back of your hair to pull you up off the desk slightly. A better angle for him to ruin you properly. You moan both from the sting at your scalp and the rough handling, nipples perking through the scratchy fabric of your breast band.
“Please,” leaves your lips before you quite realize it, breathless and desperate.
Your body throbs as heat builds in your middle quickly, clenching helplessly as he slides in and out with ease, hips meeting your ass in a rhythm that doesn’t break. Your nails bite into the front edge of the desk.
“Please, what?” he rasps meanly, the hand on your ass tracing up your back and side to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. He leans over you to do it, clothed chest pressed to your back.
“Want me to let you cum, cadet?” he murmurs, voice strained, lips against the shell of your ear.
The new angle makes your mind melt, eyes lidded and cheeks flushed with arousal. Your pussy flutters weakly around him, the tinges of your orgasm building and sending warmth down your trembling legs.
Levi doesn’t wait for a response. He’s already pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your neck, the hand in your hair growing cruel, demanding, fisting. The hand on your breast fares no better. He finds the ridge of your nipple even through the fabric and pinches slightly, squeezing with no restraint.
He slams in brutally, this time harder. Your pussy quivers, and a half sob leaves you as the twisting heat building in you threatens to implode.
“Answer me,” he rasps again, teeth finding the side of your neck and scraping.
Your tongue feels thick in your mouth, your mind hazy and half alert. It’s hard to focus when you can feel the hard length of him carving you out in the most pleasurable way.
“Yes, please, fuck.”
It leaves you loudly, breathless and delirious. He grunts, a hitch in his breath as his hips stutter.
“Fucking cum for me,” he says, hoarse, gripping your breast hard, hips never ceasing their desperate pace, pummeling into you with strokes that make your toes curl.
And you do, with a cry he muffles with his hand, the one that had been brutalizing your breast. You shake in his hold, vision going white and pussy clenching, pulsating around his cock as he continues. You can feel yourself fluttering around him, sensitive and soaked as he thrusts up into you again, and then once more.
His hips stutter, and he groans softly against the sweat-dampened skin of your neck as he cums, thrusting shallowly through it. Heat bursts again in you, wet, dripping as he pushes his spend deep. Your thighs quiver. His hand slides, barely aware, from your mouth down to softly grip your throat. He’s half here and yet so aware at the same time.
Silence rings loudly in the room. The sound of rapid breathing and the weight of impulsive actions that are far out of control leave a vacuum where there was intensity. You’re far too satisfied to care. He releases your hair and your head tips forward against the desk again, forehead warm against the lacquered wood.
His weight leaves you slowly, the hand around your throat sliding off with reluctance, before he’s gone completely. Levi pulls out without a word. The rustling of fabric begins again, this time from a distance, your mind gone along with your dignity.
You feel him then. A gentle swipe of something soft between your legs that makes your chest warm in the oddest way. A way you promptly suppress by getting to your forearms on the desk. He doesn’t comment, only stepping away and tucking himself into his pants as you finally peel yourself up and get to your feet, legs shaking.
You’re not sure whether to look at him, thank him, or exit quietly. The humiliation that made you hot earlier burns closer to true shame and a level of satisfaction you can’t describe. It makes you mute in the pressing silence of his office.
He steps further away towards the desk chair, as you pull your pants up, tucking your uniform shirt back in properly. Your eyes stay strictly on the task until he finally breaks the silence.
“Past curfew. Get back to the barracks, cadet,” comes flat, but softer edged than his usual rigid delivery. He’s already sitting back down in his chair as you step away from the desk.
You glance at him then. High cheekbones with that faint flush that comes from activity, eyes downcast to the papers on his desk that are now crumpled, ink smeared. The lines of his face are smoother, the furrow in his brows deeper, though. He doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t say a word about the fact that he just fucked his cadet over his desk or what that might mean.
You swallow thickly, footsteps echoing heavily in the office, leaking his cum into your panties as you move.
“Yes, sir.”
You’re tempted to say more. You don’t. You exit the office, the heavy wooden door clicking shut softly behind you. You can do nothing but stand in the hallway, blinking dazedly into the dim lighting of the corridor, torches sputtering in the quiet night for a moment.
You can only hope it’ll happen again.
Outro: IT’S FINALLY HERE <3 FINALLY!! It's been sitting in my drafts for months, but of course writers block + stress made editing way worse than writing it. I seriously reached a flow state writing the smut in this lol. I wanted something a little more…restrained, but I decided Levi being sort of mean was hotter. Hopefully y’all enjoyed! I know this was highly requested both here and on AO3, so I hope I delivered. Please let me know your thoughts <3
Click HERE for my master list!
Summary: After thoughtlessly causing issues within your squad, your strict captain demands retribution in the form of cleaning duties. Somehow, those same impulsive decisions lead you to fulfilling your punishment in unconventional ways.
AO3: @junimodreams
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: Fem reader, Oral (M receiving), face fucking, p^rn with plot, power dynamics, dirty talk, f masturbation mention
Your hands are red and raw, utterly abused by the harsh disinfectant that your neat freak of a captain had provided you with to better assist in your punishment. You hadn’t been trying to start trouble. You truly hadn’t, but mistakes were made. Maybe throwing horse manure at another cadet who just happened to say the wrong thing to you wasn’t such a good idea.
You grimace as you flex your fingers, the skin tight and uncomfortable. Yeah, it definitely wasn’t your smartest idea.
Captain Levi had been furious with you, and when he confronted you, lip curled in disgust, you hadn’t truly had a good explanation. It had been spur-of-the-moment, a burst of anger and an impulsive decision – a decision you now regretted.
He had decided you’d need better control of your impulses if you were to be on his squad and assigned you to a rigorous cleaning routine of the semi-isolated headquarters your group was currently residing in. The stone floors weren’t easy to clean, and since he was ever meticulous in his routine, you had to be diligent.
Your knuckles scrape the floor occasionally as you scrub, sloshing up hardly any dirt or grime, as the captain has a thorough practice of ensuring the floors are scrubbed weekly to begin with. Your knees ache with the crouched position, and your lower back throbs duly. Every surface that you could find has been meticulously wiped down, every nook and cranny explored for dirt or dust, and every person who’s passed through has been scolded severely for undermining your handiwork.
You sit back on your calves again, trying to ignore the stinging of your hands. He’d given you some type of cleaning agent that had to be diluted in water, but no gloves. You hadn’t asked for any – you assume it’s part of your punishment. Captain Levi always has some smart retort, and just as he is thorough in cleaning, he’s equally so in punishing recruits for bad behavior.
The mostly empty bucket at your side calls to you. You need to refill it and remix your cleaning concoction to continue. You get to your feet, stretching as you do so. The joints in your knees are sore, misaligned from so much time spent on them, as you head for your little set of supplies, which he so graciously provided you with, only to find a problem.
You’re fresh out. There’s no more of the concentration agent left. Just a few clear, empty drops in the bottle staring back at you.
Fuck.
You’ll have to ask him for more, which you don’t particularly want to do. You’ve been avoiding him as much as humanly possible, aside from his daily inspection of your work. The idea that he could potentially admonish you further, or better yet, give you more to do, leaves dread sitting cold and uncomfortable in your belly.
Should you finish the rest with water only? No, no, he’d know. You don’t think you could tell the difference, but the captain doesn’t miss anything. Even if you were to get away with it, if he ever found out, he’d punish you again, you have no doubt.
You sigh, low and long, and dread the walk to his office. Anxiety settles in your stomach as you slouch and begin the slow descent down the hall, dragging your feet. While you’d like to think he’ll be glad you brought it to his attention instead of half assing it, you know he’s more than likely going to think you used far too much and were wasteful.
Captain Levi isn’t a mean captain, or a bad one, for that matter, but he is prickly. He’s rigid and likes things done a certain way. He nitpicks at anything he finds he could have done better himself. It makes him unpleasant. If he weren’t such a damn good captain, one that you looked up to and admired, you’d probably transfer. The fact that he’s eye candy also assists in keeping you in your spot on his elite squad.
Dark, neat hair, cutting blue eyes, and a jaw carved by God himself – he’s a sight to behold. It makes him look severe, but it also draws you in. The flex of his hands on his blade handles, the rare occasions you’ve been blessed to see him with his shirt off, and the intensity of those dark blue eyes stripping you bare – leaving nothing overlooked or unaccounted for. It’s always made your knees weak.
And late at night, when the barracks are quiet, when the only sound is the breathing of nearby recruits and the occasional snore, it makes you ache between your thighs. Breath hitching, fingers probing your wet heat and rubbing tight circles over your clit – the thought of those strong hands pinching into your flesh hard enough to leave bruises.
So yes, your captain is a hard ass. A very good-looking one with skills to match; so, you stay put, and you summon your courage as you make your way to his office door - the office door that you should knock on before entering.
You’re so caught up in the anxiety of what he may say, what he may decree as additional punishment for using the last of his oh so precious cleaning solution, that you don’t.
When you open the door to his ever-tidy office, a flushed-faced, sweaty captain stares back at you – his eyes wide and his movements scrambling. Your brows furrow, confused for a moment, before you glance down at the movement of his hands to see his leaking cock staring back at you.
Your eyes go wide.
Oh shit. Oh no.
“Get out!” he bellows, his usually controlled tone breathless and alarmed.
He’s trying to shove his flushed, slightly curved cock back into his trousers, but is failing to do so in his panicked state. You’re frozen, though, hand still on the door handle and eyes on that deliciously curved specimen in front of you.
You're embarrassed. You should close the door and pretend it never happened. You could use it as blackmail. But the late-night thoughts of his hands kneading your flesh, a cock you’ve only imagined up until this point pummeling your insides senseless – it's coming back to you in vivid imagery.
“Get out!” he barks again, glaring at you as if he isn’t the one with his pants half down.
You open your mouth and then close it again. Internally debating in frozen indecision. What would he do if you tried?
Your feet decide for you, stepping into the room and slowly starting to close the door behind you. You speak before you even truly think it through – once again, all impulse and no real thoughts for consequences.
“Need some help?”
Captain Levi stares at you, mouth agape, having just been about to bark out something lethal when you finally speak. His brows furrow impossibly deeper, and his jaw snaps shut tensely.
There’s a simmering silence for several moments. He’s so in shock that he temporarily stops trying to shove himself back into his uniform.
“Need some help?” he repeats slowly, eyeing you up and down. It seems like he can’t decide whether to take you up on it or if you’ve lost your damn mind.
Your eyes are wide, almost shocked at your own audacity, but you quickly decide that the damage is done – you may as well follow through.
“Yes. Would you like me to help you with that…Captain?” you ask slowly, brows raising, gently closing the door behind you with an audible click.
You glance up at his face, trying to gauge his expression. Furrowed brows, shoulders tensed, cheeks still flushed in arousal, and he’s still rock-hard in his own hand as he glares back at you. There’s confusion floating in his features.
You decide to push it, gingerly stepping further into his office, closer to his desk, closer to the object of your desire. You lean over the desk, hands pressing flat against the cool wood.
“Do you want some help?” you repeat softly, eyes darting back down to gaze at the length of him.
He exhales, eyes widening, realizing you mean it. You want to. His mind is made up in a split second at the sultry tone in your voice.
“Fuck it,” he murmurs, sitting back in the chair again and shoving his pants back down.
“Come here.”
Your stomach flips, your pussy throbs at the commanding tone of his voice, and your eyes glance up at his face to evaluate. He’s going to fuck you? In his office? Your wettest dream is finally coming true.
Your feet move before you can really even process the situation, your hands lifting from the desk, and you step around it to his side, one hand trailing along the smooth wood.
He looks up at you through thick, dark lashes, cheeks reddening, chest heaving in desire. The captain tilts his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he soaks you in.
“On your knees,” he directs curtly, eyes finding your own in the sexually tense atmosphere of the room.
A blow job then. Who are you to complain?
You do as he directs, gingerly getting down on your sore knees and slotting yourself between his now spread thighs. You’d wait for another command, but the curved, perfectly flushed, and leaking head of his cock beckons to you. You’re already running a hand up his thigh before you can even think straight.
His breath hitches as he stares down at you – enamored with the sight of a pretty young thing like yourself perched between his knees, mouth salivating over his cock.
You don’t hesitate when you finally find your mark, your raw hand finds the heat of him – thick and veiny, throbbing vaguely under your hold. You pump him once and he hisses. Precum slides down his shaft as you pump him again. Saliva begins to collect in your mouth in anticipation.
You lean forward and finally do what you’ve been aching to do for months – slide your tongue right across the head of him before popping it into your mouth, suckling lightly.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, exhaling sharply.
Your eyes close. As you begin to suck gently on him, tongue flicking over the head of his cock, the taste of him permeates your senses. Musky, sharp, him. Your pussy throbs painfully, but you do as your captain directed and begin to slowly work your mouth down on his length, your raw hand pumping the parts of him you haven’t reached yet.
He grunts at the movement, breathing heavily, his hands fisted at his sides.
Your tongue works, stroking the underside of him as you work your way down, sucking and drooling on it, before rising again as you begin to bob your head. His hips buck, pushing himself deeper.
You don’t yield to the gag reflex rising; you keep going. Head bobbing, tongue slicking over those throbbing veins, the taste of him thick in the back of your throat as you finally take him deep enough to have your nose buried in the dark hair at his base.
He moans. He moans.
Your pussy aches, panties increasingly wet as you work, bobbing your head diligently and sucking all the time. His hips begin to buck up into your mouth, finding a rhythm as he pants heavily.
“Oh, Jesus fucking-“he grunts, finally losing all inhibition and tangling a hand in your hair to better fuck up into your waiting mouth.
You gag around him, throat tightening, eyes smarting with tears as a mixture of drool and precum begins to drip down your chin. Your hands that had been previously pumping him are now clenched in the fabric of his uniform pants, no longer bobbing your head and allowing him to face fuck you properly.
“Yeah, you fucking like this shit, don’t you?” he mutters breathily, voice ragged with exertion and arousal.
You hum around him, barely coherent in the heat of things, in the feel of his cock pummeling the back of your throat and the feel of your soaked-through panties, your burning pussy aching for relief. Tears begin to slip down your cheeks, joining the mixture dripping onto his thighs as he ravages your mouth.
He curses again, grip tightening in your hair at the sensation, his hips stuttering, movements faltering. His cock jolts in the depths of your throat, and you gag around him again. It’s his undoing.
You finally pull another delicious moan from him as he cums, shooting down your throat, thick and hot and tasting overwhelmingly musky. As much as your senses scream to gag, to spit it out, you swallow it all down eagerly. He groans at the sensation of your throat tightening as you swallow him.
“Ohsofucking good, yes,” he mutters, breathless as he finishes.
Your eyes water, lips switching around him in the desire to smile at his praise, your hard ass of a captain unraveled by your sweet mouth. His hips finally drop back down into the chair, panting, loose, and you pull away to get a good look at his face after all of it.
Eyes closed, his expression the most relaxed you’ve ever seen, his jaw slack, and his lips slightly parted. Your eyes are lidded in arousal, evaluating, desperately hoping that when he comes down, you can get an equally kind favor in return. You swipe your mouth and eyes with your sleeve, trying to clear some of the mess he’s made of you.
His eyes finally open, lidded with the afterglow of some incredibly good head to take in your utterly wrecked appearance. The captain's expression shifts continuously – shame, satisfaction, regret, absolution. He’s deep in thought in the immediate aftermath as he begins to tuck his softening cock back into his pants.
You stare up at him with pleading eyes.
Please, oh please, you think desperately.
“On your feet,” he mutters, buckling his belt, unable to look at you.
Your stomach drops. Your pussy aches, clenching, desperate for something, anything.
“Consider your punishment fulfilled,” he adds, voice low, even, as if you didn’t just have him balls deep in your throat.
It’s like he’s trying to console you for doing a good job, even if he doesn’t seem to have any intention of returning the favor. You stare at him, eyes wide as you scramble to your feet – raw hands and sore knees long forgotten. The only soreness you can focus on is that in the back of your throat.
“And clean yourself up. You look wrecked,” he adds again, almost clinical in his evaluation.
You stutter, trying to force the words out as you begin to step back to the proper – the right side of his desk.
“Yes, sir,” you croak, voice broken in the aftermath of his abuse.
Your heart is dropping, oh so desperate for release, for anything after what just occurred, but he gives you nothing. The captain turns back to the papers on his desk like it’s another day.
You take that as your sign to leave. He was nice enough to let you suck him off, but clearly not nice enough to return the favor. You eventually fumble your way out of his office, the door clicking closed behind you, and your heart racing in a mixture of emotions – desire, frustration, embarrassment.
Your face is flushed, mind racing over the potential outcomes of what just occurred, but the only thought ringing out loudly in your head is that at least you’ll have something extra good to get off to tonight.
Outro: I really hope this is good! Cause it was a little self-indulgent. This idea has been sitting in my drafts for weeks, and I finally decided to give in and write it out. There may be a part two at some point where reader finally gets her "happy ending". I love it! I hope you all do too <3
Click HERE for my master list!
Literally not a subtle bone in his body. Flirty and shameless about it. ODDLY sweet at times; he can be sincere, as much as his arrogance might indicate otherwise on occasion.
Gets flustered with actual feelings. Compliments? Loves them. Surface level charm? His currency. Tenderness? He’s red-faced.
This man can eat. He always has a snack, makes hearty meals, and rarely complains about your cooking, even if it’s bad. He offers to cook and is really good at it!
This is because he works out a lot. He doesn’t strike me as a lean body type. He likes to bulk and have some visible mass = lots of food.
Food as a love language. You will not starve if Alex has a say. Yes, it’s meat heavy. Yes, it’s a lot of carbs. Happy weight happens.
Thankfully, you’ve got plenty of farm work to keep you active.
Alex is pretty big on physical affection. Very cuddly in private and sweet about it. Kisses on the palms of your hands, neck kisses, and he is a sucker for head scratches.
Very, very helpful on the farm, in the raw-labor way. He will take an interest in some of the logistics purely to humor you, but most of his contributions end up being in helping lift heavy items, put up fences, and with some of the more taxing manual activities.
Surprising soft spot for the animals, especially the smaller ones. He likes feeding and petting them, even if it’s not an everyday thing.
Might try to bench press a sheep at some point. It does not end well.
Not as PDA-heavy as you might think. He’ll sling an arm over your shoulders, hold your hand, or slide an arm around your waist, but he is actually a little shy when it comes to kissing in public or anything further than surface-level affection.
Is teased about this by Evelyn and George. Evelyn is thrilled. George is amused and rolls his eyes. They’re both just happy Alex has someone that sees him and loves him for who he is like they do.
Sleeps like a log. He does move in his sleep, but it’s like…. a roll, not a sprawl. You may be collateral damage. He apologizes, usually half asleep, and will pull you to him and tuck you under his arm. Human weighted blanket.
Oddly hesitant about kids, if that’s something you ask about. With his parents’ history, he’s uncharacteristically nervous about it, but ends up being a very sweet, affectionate dad. Let’s his kids get away with a lot.
Evelyn does not help. She spoils them just as badly. George acts above it and is absolutely not.
Gridball every Sunday during the fall without fail. You are roped into this, and he’s kind of disappointed if you don’t join him every so often. There are snacks galore; he’s good at explaining the game if you’re not familiar. Very enthusiastic watcher.
George often joins, or Alex will go over to his grandparents to watch as well. Lots of Sunday dinners with Evelyn and George post-game.
Outro: Hello all! This series is FINALLY continuing. We are almost there. I actually had so much fun writing for Alex. He is such an interesting character that I feel like the game only really scratches the surface of. I don’t usually marry him, but I do enjoy his evolution like… a lot. Maru is up next in this series! Hope you enjoyed <3
AO3: @junimodreams
Click HERE for my master list!
Hi all! I know I’ve been offline for a while, but I do plan to get back into the swing of posting every now and again. About six months back I made a post about planning to meet Matt Mercer (Levi’s VA), and now that I’m back online again I wanted to share it with you all. Matt and his team were so nice, and if you’ve ever considered going to Momo Con I would HIGHLY recommend it. It was incredibly clean, well organized, and my husband and I had the best experience. We left on our final day (we attended 3 of the 4) excited for next year! Below are just some neat things I found while there as well as some of the merch I was lucky enough to find 🥰
We also got really lucky! Robbie Daymond (Megumi’s VA) and Ray Chase (Sukuna’s VA) were there as well. They had SUCH an awesome turn out; we got to meet several other VA’s as well, but these were definitely the ones I was most excited for.
If you’re thinking about attending Momo Con 2027, but have been on the fence - DO IT! I cannot recommend it enough. I’ve always been hesitant with my sensory issues, but I had such an awesome experience.
Engagement photos are a whole other beast with your new fiancé. Levi’s not a fan of cameras, photos, or social media in general, so convincing him to get engagement photos isn’t hard per se, as he realizes it’s traditional, but the boundaries he sets around it are… picky. Deeply opinionated.
It’s not that he doesn’t want the photos, but having a photographer watch him kiss you and take a photo of it that you may then potentially post for all your friends and family to see is nightmare fuel for him. He is not the type to want that sort of attention.
He will take the pictures, but expect Levi-branded awkwardness. If you select an easygoing photographer, an extremely private setting, and don’t push for overly doting photos, you actually might get some good ones.
Levi is incredibly nervous leading up to the fact. He’s meticulous about grooming by nature, but he goes hardcore for this. Some because he knows it matters to you (and to him, in his way), but also because it helps with his nerves. He’s especially quiet leading up to the appointment with the photographer as a result of these nerves.
Unexpectedly, he’s caught off guard. Seeing you thrilled to get married to him hits something raw and long scarred over. This might be one of the first moments where it starts feeling real for him in a more public-facing way. Levi definitely has some abandonment issues, and while I don’t believe he’d get cold feet, I do believe that he can become very rigid with enough emotion and anxiety.
Levi, much to his dismay, ends up being exceptionally soft-eyed in some of them. The candid photos are where he shines. Posed photos look good. He looks good in everything, but he’s stiff in more formal photos. The photographer is fighting for their life.
The candid photos capture that little quirk his mouth does when he’s happy and is trying not to show it because he’s embarrassed. It’s usually because you said something funny or did something cute. That’s how you get him.
Once you get the photos back, he’s very insistent on getting them downloaded to his phone stat. He’s not going through them in detail with you, but he is going to spend an obscene amount of time looking at them in his own time.
Yes, a candid one of you looking at him and beaming and him looking soft in the eyes, hand entwined in yours, ends up as his screen saver. He will never comment on this. It is in your best interest to not comment on it either.
Setting a date with Levi is surprisingly easy. His only qualms are no summer wedding (sweat + formal wear is a hard pass for him), and it needs to align with any important life dates. He’s practically focused in this regard and is not going to have a set date or season bookmarked in his mind.
He’s not the type to draw out an engagement, because once he commits, he commits. Levi would not propose if the intent is not there. Maybe a year, max, from engagement to wedding day. Enough to reasonably plan a wedding without having to rush to do so, but if timeline-wise it makes sense to push it further, he’ll deal with it (and be annoyed). Once again, very much thinking about practicalities.
One odd thing he’d get really into – invitations and the wedding website. Not aesthetically, exactly, more so making sure the format makes sense, making sure any enclosures are meticulously correct in providing locations, transportation, menus, etc. He is very locked in on this in the beginning stages of wedding planning.
He ends up making a very minimalist version of both. If you’re minimal, you’ll love it. If you’re not… you may have to convince him that color is not a crime, and neither is a floral pattern that the site offers for design purposes. You get the most unimpressed look when you “pretty” up the designs, but he reluctantly admits it looks nicer.
Registries are another point I feel like he’d be meticulous about.
Levi grew up in a situation where handouts felt like a trap. He’s not a fan of gifts or feeling beholden, and while he knows, logically, people do this when they get married – it’s still a sore spot that makes him uncomfortable.
He responds with control. Nothing unnecessary goes on the registries. He agrees to upgraded or nicer home necessity items, one or two things decoration-wise that also serve a practical purpose, and cringes at the idea of adding anything overtly luxurious.
This may be a contention point that requires patience and time.
Picking out wedding bands with Levi is interesting. He has a double-edged standard here. He wants good quality and simple for himself. BUT he’s willing to indulge whatever you want for your band within reason. Levi is a frugal king, not a sugar daddy.
Oddly tender here. Probably gets it engraved with something simple as a surprise. May not even mention it until the wedding day. Yes, you cry. Yes, he gets very soft-eyed and understatedly affectionate as a result.
Outro: Hello all! I know it’s been a while 😊 but! I am married now, I survived the holidays, and SEVERAL medical events, so here we are. This is part two in a series of Fiancé!Levi works. The first set of headcanons can be found here. I’ve also written a drabble for our favorite fiancé which can be found here. I’m currently debating writing a drabble of engagement photos with Levi, like the way I wrote the first drabble from his POV. Let me know if that’s something y’all would be interested in.
AO3: @junimodreams
Click here for my master list.
the real reason it takes me so long to write my fics is because i have to render them first which takes a crazy amount of time and processing power. anyone who has ever used 3d modeling or video editing software understands
